


The BF Word

by NinjaSniperKitty



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, In which Deadpool is one of those people that needs to get snacks even for short car rides, Just all the fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 11:49:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15266877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinjaSniperKitty/pseuds/NinjaSniperKitty
Summary: Wade accidentally refers to Nathan as his boyfriend for the first time—on live TV.





	The BF Word

They stop for gas along the way. It’s nothing out of the ordinary. Nathan—Cable, whatever he calls himself—pumps because apparently they do have gas stations in the future, while he goes in to pay and buy precious, precious snacks.

Wade is carefully looking over the snack aisle in the gas station, a very important job. If they end up with shitty snacks, it’d be all his fault and he doesn’t know if he can handle that weight on his shoulders right now.

Bugles suck.

Fritos suck.

Cheetos are okay, but they taste like foam after, like, 2 of them.

After all but giving up on the chip section, his eyes fall on the candy section. _Oh yeah._ Candy’s nice. Candy never let him down, unlike opening a bag of chips only to find that it’s 97% air.

Then comes the decision of _which_ candy to buy. As Wade stands there, fingers under his chin in contemplation as he debates the pros and cons of chocolate vs. gummy candy, something strikes him: being from the future, where happiness is apparently no longer an acceptable emotion, Nathan has probably never been exposed to the diabetes-inducing wonders that made America great in the 21st century. And that is absolutely unacceptable.

In his short time of being here, Nathan has introduced him to all sorts of things: eggplant, time travel, what it’s like having a clean apartment. Reaffirmed his kink for metal appendages. Having lived together for three-ish months now, it would only be fair for him to introduce Nate to the greatest things of his time as well.

As Wade is grabbing the orange-packaged candy from the shelf, he hears frantic rustling, the distinct click of the safety being turned off on a gun. There’s shouting, and Wade turns around just in time to see that some guy has taken a woman hostage. He has his arm wrapped around her neck and is pointing a pistol at the gas station clerk, shouting something along the lines of “Everybody down! Give me all the money in the register!”

Wade quickly scrabbles behind one of the candy displays and pops his head out to get a better look. People scramble to get down on the floor. The man is tall and imposing despite his skinny frame. There’s a stereotypical black ski mask over his face as if he’s been watching far too many crime movies. The woman in his grasp is beating at his arm desperately, trying to get her footing on the tile floor.

 _Amateur._ This guy didn’t even wear his knife-proof helmet today! Wade reaches across his body for one of his knives (the gas station’s fault for not patting him down at the door), but hesitates. People usually don’t like seeing people die, he thinks, much less the blood spurt from an old-fashioned stabbin’. He reconsiders it, just for the civilians’ sake. Because he’s just nice like that.

Instead, he slides across to the booze aisle and grabs the first glass thing his eyes settle on: a bottle of Caliber vodka. _Oh yeah, that’ll work._

Wade snatches up the bottle, opens it up and takes a few swigs out of it while the burglar isn’t paying attention to him and is instead urging the cashier to hurry up and put the money in the bag.

He throws it. The bottle cracks the guy straight in the forehead in an explosion of glass and alcohol and he goes down like a sack of potatoes covered in glass. Yeah, he’s that good.

The people in the gas station immediately turn to gawk at him, as if they’d never seen a guy in a red suit chuck a glass bottle like a throwing knife. They glance at one another before they slowly start to rise back up from the floor. The woman who had been held hostage takes a few moments to catch her breath again before she lands a solid kick to the unconscious burglar’s ribs with the toe of her heels.

Wade feels awkward now. Best to leave so he doesn’t have to deal with the cops when they undoubtedly show up. “No need to thank me, denizens! I’m just a simple man doing his job to better society!” He turns to whisper at the cashier, his Kit Kat in hand. “So I can just keep this as payment, right? Without paying for it?”

The man stares back at him, mouth agape.

“I’m just gonna keep this.”

Nate is the first person to meet him at the doors. His eyebrows are furrowed, as if he was actually worried about him! Imagine that! It warms his heart a bit if he’s being perfectly honest.

His voice is not without its usual gruff charm. “What happened in there? I saw people down on the ground.”

“Very observant, Terminator.” He shrugs. “Nothing big. Some dude took a hostage and tried to rob the store, so I did what I did best.”

“Talked his ears off?”

Wade scoffs. “And here I thought that you were worried about me!”

“I was—“

“Aw, snookums!”

“—when you took 15 minutes just to pay for some damn gas. But I had faith that you could handle it. Was anyone hurt?”

“Oh someone was hurt, all right. On the bright side, I hear that alcohol is a natural antiseptic.”

Reporters are the second group of people to meet him at the door. One of them, a female, shoves a microphone in his face, asking him about the events that had just transpired and how he got up the courage to stand up to the burglar.

“I have two questions. One: how did you all get here before the police? Jesus Christ. Two,” he looks directly into the camera, “Wolverine, why haven’t you accepted my friend request on Facebook yet?”

“Sir, can you state your name and spell it for the interview, please?”

“The name’s Deadpool. Uh, D-E-A-D-P-O-O-L. And this is my boyfriend, Cable. He—“

His hands are quick to clamp over his mouth. He’s made a mistake, casually dropped the _b to the f_ word and not even in a joking manner. It’s like in those cheesy rom coms when the very heterosexual female protagonist drops the _love_ word and the very heterosexual male protagonist storms off because he just can’t deal with all these _feelings._ Wade can picture it now. Except it’s him instead of the female protagonist and Nathan as the void-of-emotion male protagonist.

Wade remembers the first time he dropped the word love in a 5-mile radius of Nathan. To be fair, he had done it in a joking manner (kinda sorta), where you sling your arm around someone and drop the “I love ya, buddy!” line and punch them in the shoulder after they do something especially nice for you.

Apparently Nate had not been versed in modern bro culture, because he had just gawked at him for a solid minute trying to come up with a response. He was quiet for the rest of the day.

Wade shoots a cautionary glance at Nate, just waiting for him to blow up, looking for any betrayal of emotion on his normally stoic and chiseled face. There’s nothing there, except a glance back at him and a slight raise of eyebrows that would have been missed by anyone else had they not been scrutinizing his face like their life depended on it. He dips back a bit, still staring at him. Wade interprets it as being taken aback, like he can’t believe the words that just came out of the merc’s mouth and the only thing that’s keeping him from strangling him is his audience.

His worries are eased, however, as Nate’s features soften and— _holy hell what is happening—_ wraps a thick arm around his shoulders to pull him in.

“Yeah. I guess I’m his boyfriend.”

Wade’s heart almost jumps out of his chest. It probably would have, had it not been contained by layers of fleshy bits and bone. The moment would have been a lot more ideal had the futuristic soldier not been several inches _shorter_ than him, but he supposes he can deal with it just because how goddamn _happy_ he feels at that moment. Something he hasn’t felt in a long while.

With newfound confidence, Wade leans into the touch, basking in the warmth of Nate’s fleshy side. He only partly listens to him as he drops a few lines to the reporter about what he saw at the insistence of the microphone in his face. The other part of him is too busy thinking about how he’s gonna have to change his Facebook relationship status to _in a relationship_ now, just so he can rub it in his twenty Facebook friends’ faces. (Wolverine denied his friend request about 6 times. _Sad.)_

He’s thinking about how much he likes the sound of _in a relationship with a robot daddy from the future_ when he feels something sharp poke into his side. Nate is looking at him expectantly. The reporter has left to go stick her mic in some other poor soul’s face.

“Well?”

“Hm?”

“I asked you a question.”

“Did you?” This is news to him!

“I asked if you were ready to go, dipshit.”

“Oh!” Oh. “Right. Yeah. Of course. But first…” Wade digs into one of the pockets of his suit. “I got you a present, honeybear!” He pulls out the Kit Kat from his pocket, his fingers sinking into the soft chocolate, and proudly presents it to the other man, who’s eyeing it with a look of disdain. “Ta-da!”

“What is it?”

“It’s a Kit Kat Bar, one of the finest things America has ever produced! Right up there with Bea Arthur.”

“Is it edible?”

“ _Is it edible?”_ Wade is _appalled_ at his new titanium boyfriend! “What, do they not have chocolate in the future?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Well, that sucks. He shakes the gooey candy at him anyway, trying to get him to take it.

Nate’s lip curls at the sight of it. “It’s melted.”

Now that he mentions it, the chocolate kind of is starting to gush out of the seams of the wrapper and onto his hands. “So ungrateful! I nailed a guy in the head with a bottle of mediocre vodka to get you this for you for free, and you have the _audacity_ to tell me it’s melted!” Wade slaps his hand to his chest in mock offense. “Why, do they not teach manners in the future, either?”

“Fine. If you shut up, I’ll take it.”

Wade brightens, shakes the candy at him again. “Good!”

“Thanks, I guess.” He carefully pinches the end of the wrapper—the part not covered in chocolate—between his thumb and index finger and scrutinizes it for a few seconds before sticking it in one of the pouches of his fanny pack. “I’ll refrigerate it later.”

Wade gives the a-ok symbol with his hand—he’s sure they have that in the future—and wraps an arm around Nate’s waist in a side arm hug and totally not as a ruse to wipe the chocolate on his hand off onto Nate’s already dark colored shirt. It must work, because the other man just smiles at him, his eyes crinkling at the sides.

“Let’s go home, _boyfriend.”_

**Author's Note:**

> I found out this is apparently the first time I’ve written a story in the present tense??


End file.
